


trust in a witch

by polyamory



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (but not malevolent blood magic), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Blood Magic, Bookstore Owner Combeferre, Demigods, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone is Trans, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magical Realism, Marius goes by Mari, Multi, Mutual Pining, Necromancy, Other, Trans Character, Werewolves, Witches, eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch (Grantaire) needs a demigod's (Enjolras) blood and hair to make a spell. There's also the shapeshifting owner of a magic books store (Combeferre) who they both might have a crush on. Not to mention the whole debacle when the werewolf (Eponine) finds out her recently dead best friend (Mari) was resurrected by a necromancer (Courfeyrac).<br/>Also, everyone is trans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little bit of a monster, but um if you have any questions feel free. hope you enjoy and if you do leave kudos and comments!
> 
> helpful pronoun guide is helpful!! (if you notice any mistakes re: pronouns let me know. i try my best but even i'm fallible)
> 
> Enjolras ey/em/eir   
> Combeferre they/them/their   
> Courfeyrac he/him/his   
> Mari xe/xem/xir   
> Grantaire they/them/their   
> Eponine she/her/hers

"Ferre?" Enjolras calls while ey's walking around upstairs, pulling a sweatshirt out of eir dresser and walking across the hallway into the bathroom.

"Yeah?" comes the answer from downstairs a moment later when Enjolras is carefully braiding eir hair.

"When will Courf be here again?" The words are mumbled around the ribbons in eir mouth.

Ey hears footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Combeferre is sticking their head through the door.

"Say that again."

Enjolras lets the ribbons drop into the sink. "When did Courf say they'd be here again?"

"Soon," Combeferre says and when Enjolras gives them a raised eyebrow they add hesitantly, "15 minutes? 20 maybe?" they shrug.

"How do we survive as adults?" Enjolras says, shaking eir head.

"We don't," Combeferre says and before Enjolras can protest, "Enjolras, you're a demigod, you don't even need to do any of this you just do it for fun. I am literally a cloud of moths."

"True," Enjolras says, inclining eir head.

"So, will you get something from the bakery or not?"

"Ja, ja," ey grumbles but it's said with a fond smile.

"Come, let me help you with that," Combeferre says finally stepping away from the doorway and into the bathroom. They take the last ribbon from Enjolras, tying it into the braid and fluffing it up the way they know Enjolras likes it, tugging at the strands a little until the braid looks loose and just a little disheveled.

"There you go," Combeferre says, twisting the braid over eir shoulder.

"Thank you," Enjolras says, smiling at them in the mirror.

"Now go or you won't be back in time for Courf and Mari to arrive," Combeferre laughs.

 

It's a short walk from their home to the bakery just around the corner, a little family owned place that always smells whole and hearty.

"Hello Enjolras," ey is greeted when ey enters, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully.

"Hello Valentina," Enjolras greets the girl behind the counter. She is a little younger than ey looks and ey knows she's studying architecture while still helping her family out in the bakery.

"What can I do for you today?"

She turns to the goods on offer, putting them into paper bags while Enjolras rattles off eir list. It is only then that ey notice that there's someone else in the bakery. Another customer sitting at one of the small tables with cup in front of them and an empty plate.

"That will be 3 euros and 98 cents, please," Valentina says, handing em the paper bags over the counter.

"Thank you," Enjolras replies, dropping the money into her palm. "Have a nice day!"

"You too, Enjolras!"

Out of the corner of eir eye Enjolras sees the customer empty their cup and get up as ey's opening the door. Ey holds it open for them, getting a nod in return.

It takes em a few moments to realize the person from the bakery is still following. Or, Enjolras tells emself sternly, maybe they're not following em, maybe they're just going in the same direction.

But then they stop at the corner when Enjolras stops in front of the house, pulling eir keys out to unlock the door and ey's sure that they were following em. Why, ey isn't sure.

 

"Someone followed me home," ey says in greeting when ey finds Combeferre in the kitchen.

"Well, then you better go check on the protective spells in the backyard," Combeferre replies, not even looking up from the orange they're peeling. They're hard to shake, Enjolras likes that about them.

"I will," ey says with a small smile and puts eir bags down on the breakfast table on eir way to the back door.

There's a small rune carved into the knob on the outside of the door and Enjolras rubs eir thumb over it as ey closes the door behind em.

Ey walks to one edge of the porch putting a hand to the rune carved into the post there and ducks down to check on the crystals laid out at the foot of the post.

There's a twin offering laid out at the other edge of the porch and Enjolras checks that, too. The crystals are all still there and all three runes are strong and intact.

Ey is just making eir way to the tree line to check on the twinings in the oaks when there's a flash of movement and Enjolras is on eir back. It's embarrassing really, usually ey has better reflexes than that.

It only takes a moment to take stock of the situation, someone kneeling over em, leaned forward so Enjolras can't see their face, eir arms caught under their shins, and notice the small but very sharp blade that is pressed to the underside of eir jaw. Ey resolutely doesn't panic.

Another moment passes in which neither of them moves and the buzzing in Enjolras' ears dies down slowly until ey can hear eir own thoughts again over the racket in eir head. That's when ey recognizes the person atop em as the person that followed em home, the customer from the bakery.

The knife moves, disappears from eir throat and reappears a second later just in Enjolras' line of sight, one hand holding up a strand of eir hair and the other holding the knife, cutting the strand off.

Somehow that's what finally rips Enjolras out of eir frozen state and before ey can think about it ey's already thrown the stranger halfway across the backyard and is back on eir feet again with the speed and agility befitting of a demigod.

It's not the smartest thing to showcase eir power so blatantly but given the stranger just stole a lock of eir  _ hair _ ey's gonna go with not 100% organic human either.

True enough instead of hitting the trunk of the tree and going down the stranger bounces back, effortlessly landing on their feet. They remind Enjolras a little of a large cat, maybe a mountain lion.

The strand of hair is nowhere to be seen, and Enjolras would bet it's disappeared into a pocket, already safely stowed away, but the knife is still firmly in their right hand and they don't exactly look amicable (which is ridiculous to be honest, it's not like they attacked Enjolras first or anything).

"Who are you?" Enjolras asks because ey's seen enough movies to know that villains like to monologue.

Or at least those in Hollywood movies do, because all the stranger does is snort and widen their stance into a more offensive posture, as if preparing to attack.

When they charge at em it doesn't come as much of a surprise, but the quick flash of movement right before the impact does.

Enjolras goes to block their right arm but the knife is already in their left hand and slashing across Enjolras' ribs faster than ey can blink.

As quick as the stranger had come forward they're pulling back again and there's something almost graceful in their movements, like they're dancing, if they weren't still holding the knife, now wet with Enjolras' own blood.

In the blink of an eye though the knife is gone too, presumably following where the strand of eir hair went and Enjolras is still standing in the backyard, trying to regain eir composure when the stranger is gone in a flash.

"Hey, are you coming back in –  Enjolras? Are you alright?" Combeferre's concerned voice from the porch pulls em out of eir contemplation. Ey turns around.

"What? Yes, yeah. Of course I'm alright."

"You don't look it, to be honest. What happened? Did you find anything?"

"Kind of, yeah." A hysterical laugh bubbles up in eir throat even as Enjolras fights to keep it down.

"What do you mean?" Combeferre asks, a frown creasing their forehead.

"Ferre?" Courfeyrac's voice comes from inside the house and a moment later his curly head peeks around the door.

"Oh Enjolras, there you are!" He seems to take in the situation, Enjolras' wild-eyed look and Combeferre's worried expression. "Everything okay?"

"I'm trying to find out," Combeferre says to him. Then, turning back to Enjolras they say, "So?"

"There was someone here, the same person who followed me home from the bakery."

"What did they want?" Combeferre asks immediately.

"I didn't ask," Enjolras snaps. Ey takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. They attacked me, threw me to the ground and cut off some of my hair. They were fast and I was caught off guard. I threw them off me and they – they just bounced back up like it was nothing. They got me in the side with their knife."

Combeferre steps forward at that and Enjolras wordlessly indicates to the place where the stranger had cut em.

Combeferre lifts up eir sweater to inspect it but, of course, the wound had already closed.

"It wasn't very deep," Enjolras tries to reassure them.

"Did they draw blood?" Courfeyrac asks from where he's stepped out onto the porch.

"Yes," Enjolras admits.

"What are you thinking?" Combeferre asks him and when Enjolras looks over Courfeyrac looks thoughtful, lips pursed and looking off into the distance.

"I don't know, not exactly. I mean, I do know what a necromancer could do with the hair and the blood of a half god, but your attacker might as well be a witch or a nymph or a demon."

"What would you do?" Enjolras asks.

Courfeyrac looks at em for a long moment as if trying to parse eir reaction.

"I can think of a few rituals off the top of my head, but there are probably more. I'd have to look it up," he says finally. "But first, let's eat. We didn't have breakfast and I'm ravenous." He grins brightly, ushering both of them into the house.

 

"Enjolras, Combeferre, there you are!" Mari greets them with a bright smile from where xe's putting the last things onto the breakfast table.

"Mari, it's so good to see you," Combeferre smiles, going forward to press kisses to both xir cheeks.

"It's been too long," Mari agrees.

"Courfeyrac keeps you cooped up inside all the time, that's why," Enjolras says as they all sit down around the table. "What are you afraid of, Courf?"

"That someone who knows Mari will see xem?" Courfeyrac says, "You know that, technically, xe's supposed to be dead, right? Or did you forget that, oh you know, just that night where we dug up xir grave and performed a necromantic ritual to bring xir back to life?"

"Ey hasn't, Courf." Mari takes one of Courfeyrac's hands into xirs. "And I am happy, you know," xe says to Combeferre and em. "I work at home and even before I died I didn't have many other friends except for you."

"Speaking of your work, how is that going?" Combeferre asks. As attempts to change the topic go, this one is pretty weak, but they all go with it. Mari is the only one of them who doesn't mind talking about xir own death but xe still doesn't do it very much, probably because xe knows how hard it is for Courfeyrac.

"It's going very well, actually. A lot of people are buying pottery in late summer apparently," Mari replies, xir whole face lighting up when xe talks about xir work.

Xe does pottery, passionately so, and sells it on the internet. When Mari first moved in with Courfeyrac the two of them set up xir work station in the living room, right next to the wall of windows looking out on their garden, where xe always has the best light.

"The shop has been selling quite well and I've even been commissioned some," xe smiles.

"That's wonderful," Enjolras chimes in.

"It is," Mari nods, "Especially because I felt so fricking useless the first few weeks after, well – " xe looks over at Courfeyrac whose grip on xir hand looks painfully tight even to Enjolras from across the table. "I'm sorry," xe says in an undertone but Courfeyrac shakes his head hard, curls flying around his face.

"No," he says fiercely, "never apologize. Please."

Combeferre catches Enjolras' eye and jerks their head towards the garden. Courfeyrac and Mari don't even look up when they get up, so lost in each other.

"I know this must be even harder for you than it is for me and I'm – I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk about it because of me," Enjolras hears Courfeyrac say before Combeferre closes the back door behind them and shuts their voices in.

"We should check on the rest of the runes anyway," Combeferre says when Enjolras just looks at them.

"Sure," ey says, but can't keep eir smile back.

"What are you laughing at, old man?" Combeferre asks and nudges their shoulders together. They're smiling too, a pleased, happy curl at the edge of their lips. Enjolras wants to kiss them a little.

"You've just always been the more socially sensitive one of the two of us."

"Socially sensitive? You do remember that time I walked in on Courf and Mari making out and turned into a cloud of moths, right?" Combeferre laughs.

"I do, because I had to coax you out of all kinds of cracks afterwards. God," Enjolras groans at the memory.

"Come on, let's check the runes. And hope we're not attacked by anyone this time," Combeferre pokes em in the ribs.

Together the task goes even quicker than it would've alone and in no time they're standing in the middle of the backyard again.

That's when Mari sticks xir head around the door, xir smile just a hint apologetic.

"We're all clear now, you can come back in again. Sorry for shutting you out of your own house."

"Don't worry about it," Combeferre smiles.

 

"It's not working," Eponine pants, standing in the middle of Grantaire's bedroom, Gavroche tumbling in through the open window behind her.

"What do you mean 'it's not working?'" Grantaire mumbles, sleepily blinking up at Eponine towering over their bed.

"I mean," dramatic pause, "it's not working. They found us. They came near us. They  _ touched _ us. You must've done something wrong."

"They touched you? Where?" Grantaire is suddenly much more awake at the prospect of their best friend being hurt.

"I'm fine," Eponine growls, literally growls. "we're – we're both fine," she adds with a glance back at Gavroche who's already curled up on his and Eponine's bed and probably fast asleep.

(Yes, Grantaire knows it's technically not considered 'normal' to have a second bed in your bedroom for your best friend and her little brother, but, well, they're also a witch and their best friend is a werewolf so 'normal' is far out of reach even so.)

"Well, I didn't do anything wrong," they say, returning to the topic at hand now that they've made sure Eponine and Gavroche are okay.

"Well, but obviously you did or the spell would be working and our parents wouldn't be able to come near us or even smell us." She throws the amulet Grantaire'd made her just the other day into their lap.

"I didn't do anything wrong," they insist, "I followed the directions word for word.

"Maybe you read them wrong," Eponine suggests, sinking down on the bed next to them. "I don't know."

"But we need to figure it out," Grantaire finishes her sentence.

She doesn't say anything, just looks at them with a look in her dark eyes that Grantaire can't even begin to decipher. Eponine has always been too complex for them to understand her fully but they know she hates asking for favors.

They also know she really needs this protection. Her and Gavroche both.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow, okay?" Grantaire yawns. "Now come, sleep."

They pull Eponine down onto the bed next to them and she curls around them effortlessly as Grantaire tucks the blankets in around them to keep the cool night air out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update will b tomorrow (leave comments if you enjoy maybe)

There's a knock on the front door just after noon when Enjolras is in the living room, catching up on eir reading. Combeferre is out, tending to their obscure bookstore, so instead of making grumpy noises like a disgruntled cat until Combeferre answers the door, Enjolras has to actually get up and interact with strangers. It's a real bother.

"Yes?" ey hazards when ey opens the door to a complete stranger standing on eir frontstep. Or maybe not a complete stranger? Something stirs in eir mind as the stranger breaks out into an admittedly charming grin.

"Hey, so –  um. This might be a little awkward but – " that's when Enjolras realizes why the stranger looks so vaguely familiar. Ey promptly tries to slam the door in their face but their foot is already in the door frame, keeping the door open. Enjolras keeps pressing anyway.

"Ouh, ouh," the stranger calls out, "will you stop that? You're gonna break my foot!"

"You followed me to my house. You attacked me. You cut me with a knife!" Enjolras shouts back through the gap in the door.

"Well, you seem to be doing fine. Cut all healed up, isn't it?" they reply, now leaning their whole weight against the door. "Look, I'm sorry about the whole, attacking you thing, I really am, but I need your help."

_ "You," _ Enjolras intones slowly, "need  _ my _ help? What for? You already have my hair and my blood. What more do you need for your little ritual?"

The stranger huffs on the other side of the door, which, really? It's not like Enjolras is the unreasonable one here.

"Well, turns out for the spell I wanna do, blood and hair has to be freely given. As in, 'of your own volition,' not as in 'coming from a free creature.' German is tricky that way sometimes."

"So what? Now you think I'll just give you my hair and blood?  _ Of my own volition?" _ Enjolras scowls.

"Yeah?" the stranger says, but even they sound unsure.

"For all I know you'll do some kind of bonding spell to drain all my energy," Enjolras scoffs, "No way."

"No, look. It's a spell to keep werewolves away."

"You know the stereotypes against werewolves aren't true, right?" Enjolras feels eir frown deepen, but before ey can really start in on the rant the stranger snorts on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, I know. My best friend is a werewolf. The spell is for her anyway. It's to keep her parents away."

Enjolras inhales sharply at that.

"Yeah," they agree, trailing off, presumably counting on Enjolras' imagination to fill in the blanks.

"Okay," ey says after a short silence. "I  _ will _ do it– under one condition."

The silence is longer that time until finally the stranger says, "Let's hear it, then," as if they're hesitant to agree to anything before they know what they're getting into.

"You do it here. And you bring your friend with you so I know that's actually what you're using my blood for."

They seem to consider that for a moment before saying, "Fair enough."

At some point in the conversation they both stopped leaning against the door quite so much, so it's easy for the stranger to pull their foot out of the gap between door and door frame.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," they call out, before wandering down the street and disappearing around the corner.

 

The wind chimes above the door rattle in the breeze as the door to the shop is pushed open and it's only the absence of a horrified gasp at the bones hanging from strings above the door, that tells Combeferre the new arrival is a regular instead of a tourist that found their way into their little bookstore by chance.

They walk out of the backroom, wiping their hands on a rag as they go to free them of dust.

"Oh, hello," Combeferre can't help the blush heating their cheeks when they see who it is standing in the entryway of the shop. "Looking for more books on protective spells?"

"Actually I was wondering if you had anything on how not to fall in love spells," the witch says, clearly joking.

Something in Combeferre deflates.

"Um, we don't. We actually don't carry any love spells or potions, purely on a moral basis." Combeferre clears their throat awkwardly.

"I – that's good, I guess. No, I mean that's definitely good. I mean, I remember myself at 16 with far too much power and far too little responsibility." The witch laughs awkwardly, scratching a hand along the back of their neck.

"Oh, I'm Combeferre, by the way," Combeferre says, offering their hand for a shake and hoping the witch doesn't notice how dry their skin is.

"Grantaire," they reply. Their hand is warm and heavy and slightly rough in Combeferre's own.

"Grantaire," Combeferre repeats, getting acquainted to the way the words lie on their tongue, the cadence and the weight of the syllables. "So, really, what can I help you with today?"

"Uh, to be honest, I only came here to get my mind of – things, y'know," Grantaire trails off, they voice dropping to a mumble.

Combeferre feels an unexpected pang of disappointment at that. Every other time Grantaire has shown up here with their unruly black curls and their crinkling eyes and wide smiles, the smell of paint and pine trees (Combeferre suspects that the last part is the smell of their magic, but the paint may just be normal paint) following in their wake, every other time they've had some kind of project or mission that Combeferre could help them with.

The last time Grantaire had visited, barely more than a week ago, they'd spend hours going through Combeferre's backroom and the rarer, more valuable books that were stored there. Grantaire had ended up buying an old book, it was really more of a pamphlet, barely more than ten pages long, on protection and diffusion spells, the font tiny and the pages cramped. Worse, it was written by hand. And even worse, it was in German.

"Uh, I guess if you have the time I could use some help finding some defensive spells?" Grantaire says it like a question, as if they're not sure if they're reading the expression on Combeferre's face right (they suppose the disappointment is written across their features plain as day).

"I'd love to," Combeferre says, just a tad too honest, a tad too enthusiastic. (Grantaire doesn't seem to notice though, just beams at them and leads the way to the defensive section.)

 

"I'm sorry, but. I don't even know your pronouns." Grantaire's voice breaks the silence an hour into their research session.

"They/them," Combeferre replies evenly, while their heart flies out of their chest at the thought that Grantaire would even care to ask that question (and while mentally bashing their head on the table for not thinking to ask the same question before now).

"Me too," Grantaire says quietly, head ducked and their eyes practically glued to the text in front of them. Combeferre knows for a fact that French farmers' harvest rituals aren't  _ that _ interesting. And they studied this shit.

Combeferre nods, more because they think this deserves some kind of response than for Grantaire's benefit, because they still haven't looked up.

Grantaire leaves that day with a book on demigods and minor deities that Combeferre suspects sometimes changes language overnight. They tell Grantaire that put Grantaire just waves their concern away.

"We'll get along," they assure Combeferre, petting the book as if asking for its agreement, "won't we?"

 

The stranger hadn't actually made clear when they would show up with their friend and so Enjolras is doomed to spend the whole day on edge and anxiously waiting.

Combeferre picks up on it, of course.

"What's going on with you, today?" they ask over breakfast, blowing on their tea so their glasses fog over.

"Um so, the person who attacked me two days ago came over yesterday and explained and they're, uh, coming over today to perform a spell."

Combeferre gapes at em. It does sound kind of ridiculous now that Enjolras has said it out loud.

"Okay, from the beginning please," Combeferre swallows, putting their mug down on the table to give Enjolras their undivided attention.

When Enjolras finishes, Combeferre rubs the bridge of their nose and sighs as if they're tired.

"You should call Courf so he can come around, too. He'll want to see this."

"You're right," Enjolras agrees and presses eir hand to Combeferre's shoulder when ey goes to get the phone.

 

"So, we're just waiting around until they decide to come by?" Courfeyrac says  – no, he whines  – an hour later, half an hour after he and Mari had arrived.

"Apparently," Enjolras sighs.

Mari is about to say something, rubbing Courfeyrac's knee comfortingly with one hand, but xe's cut off by a knock on the door.

All four of them are on their feet in an instant.

"Is that them?" Courfeyrac asks.

"You waiting for anybody else?" Combeferre shoots back, eyebrows raised playfully.

"Should we – " Enjolras starts, gesturing towards the door.

"Probably," Courfeyrac agrees.

In the end it's Enjolras who makes the first step, the others following close behind em. It comes as a relief to em to feel eir friends standing at eir back, eases some of the nerves that had been creeping up on em during the wait, making em fidget.

Eir hand is calm now when ey flips over the lock and turns the doorknob.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do we really have to do this?" Eponine asks, and with anyone else Grantaire would say it's a whine but Eponine would probably bite their head off for it. Literally.

"I told you, it's the only way they agreed to donate to the cause. Unless you changed your mind about the spell," Grantaire pauses, glancing over at Eponine even though they know what her answer will be, "then, yes, we really have to do this."

She heaves a big sigh beside him.

They're about a block away from the house now.

"Besides, what's so bad about a little house visit? I do it all the time." They laugh at Eponine's sour expression, like she just bit into a lemon.

"Yeah, but when I do house visits the houses are usually empty," she huffs and Grantaire relaxes. If she can joke then it's not that much of a problem that they have to turn around. Which would be unfortunate, too, because they've just reached the house.

"This is it," Grantaire says, Eponine hanging back as they hop up the two steps in front of the house to knock on the door.

"What's this demigod's name, anyway?" Eponine asks while they wait for someone to open the door.

"I – uh, I don't actually know," says Grantaire after a moment

"Are you for real?" Eponine asks, disbelief coloring her voice, leaning forward to see their face a little better.

"What? You think it came up when I followed them home? Think it came up when I attacked them?" Grantaire huffs.

"No," Eponine says slowly, "but I thought maybe it came up when you, you know, apologized for following them home and attacking them."

Grantaire is saved from having to answer when the door finally swings open, revealing the demigod, two other people (one of who looks almost comically slack-jawed) and Grantaire's favorite  ridiculously attractive bookstore owner (Combeferre, they remind themself) to their great surprise.

"Grantaire?" Combeferre asks, so apparently they're just as confused as Grantaire currently is.

"You know each other?" The demigod asks, looking equally puzzled.

Grantaire feels Eponine shift at their back and suddenly she's got an iron grip on their arm.

"Mari?!" she gasps, and it sounds equal measures hopeful and terrified.

The name sparks a memory in Grantaire's addled brain.

Mari was Eponine's best friend. They'd known each other since they were children and they'd practically grown up together, Mari with xir asshole grandfather and Eponine with her shit parents. They'd had a lot in common.

Grantaire had met Mari once or twice and, yep, that is definitely xir standing in the doorway looking at Eponine as if xe's just seen a ghost. Which, kind of ironic seeing as Mari is the one who died a little more than a month ago.

"Are you seeing that, too?" Eponine asks in a fierce whisper in their ear.

Grantaire nods just as Mari waves awkwardly from the doorway, "Hey, Ep."

The person next to xir looks like they're having an aneurysm.

"Maybe we should come inside?" Grantaire ventures into the awkward silence because they don't want Eponine's big reunion scene to happen on a street, no matter how uncrowded it may be.

Also, they still have to explain how they know Combeferre. And somehow sneakily find out demigod's name without letting on that they don't know it in the first place.

The four of them exchange meaningful looks before demigod nods and steps aside, leaving just enough space for Grantaire and Eponine to stumble through awkwardly, because Eponine hasn't actually let go of Grantaire's arm yet, before they pull the door closed behind them.

"So, looks like there's some stuff to explain before we can let the magic begin?" Grantaire tries, shooting an awkward smile at the room at large.

"How about we do introductions first just so we're all on the same page?" Combeferre suggest, pinching the bridge of their nose under their glasses, even though it makes demigod turn the full force of their glare on Combeferre where before it had been levered at Grantaire.

"Love that idea," Grantaire says with forced cheer. "I'm Grantaire, they/them. I'm a witch and I know Combeferre because I visit their bookstore and they actually helped me find the spell we're looking to perform today. Isn't that exciting?"

Combeferre sighs again but Grantaire swears they can see the corner of their mouth twitch up so they count it as a win.

"I'm Combeferre, they/them. I own a bookstore and am also Enjolras' best friend," they say, gesturing at demigod. So that's their name then.

"I'm Enjolras, ey/em/eir," ey says with an air of exasperation. "I am a demigod and also a recent victim of a physical attack on my hair and bodily fluids." Ey shoots Grantaire a dark look. Grantaire raises both hands, palms up.

"I'm Courfeyrac," pipes up the stranger, who's still standing next to Mari, close enough that their shoulders brush. "he/him. I'm dating Mari and I’m Combeferre's and Enjolras' best friend and quite frankly a little offended neither of them mentioned me in their introductions," he huffs, mock offended, and Grantaire knows they'll be friends. "Oh, I'm also a necromancer and interested in this spell of yours, that's why I'm here."

"I'm Eponine," Eponine says suddenly from next to Grantaire. "she/her, I'm a werewolf and I'm the one the spell is for. I'm also the one who was, until very,  _ very _ recently, under the impression her best friend was dead." She glares at Mari, one eyebrow raised, but it's not a mean glare, not an I'll-kill-you-and-rip-your-throat-out glare. It's an expectant, meaningful glare, an I'm-waiting-for-your-brilliant-explanation-of-this-bullshit-situation glare. Grantaire is intimately familiar with this glare.

"I'm Mari," xe grins bashfully, "xe/xem and I was dead for about a day or two," xe looks to Courfeyrac for confirmation at that, "until Courf, Ferre and Enjolras dug me up and brought me back to life. I'm mostly here because he's here," xe finishes, jabbing a thumb in Courfeyrac's direction.

"Maybe you two should talk in private?" Courfeyrac suggest. He's glancing between Mari and Eponine, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

He's adorable.

"They totally should," Grantaire agrees, "and meanwhile we can get on with the spell."

They hook their arm through Courfeyrac's, leading him away from Mari and Eponine and into what is presumably the living room.

"So, you're a necromancer? That's pretty cool. Tell me more. Are there limitations? Or can you resurrect anyone you want? Dude, could you resurrect a dinosaur?!"

"Uh," Courfeyrac looks slightly overwhelmed by the flood of questions but Combeferre jumps in to save him before he has to come up with an answer to Grantaire's rambling.

"Maybe we can talk about that later?" they ask, having followed them and Courfeyrac into the living room. There's an amused twist to their mouth as if they're trying not to laugh.

"Sure, sure, of course. Let's start the spell then, shall we?" Grantaire asks, clapping their hands and smiling winningly at the other three.

 

Enjolras watches in astonishment as Grantaire starts pulling the weirdest things out of what first appears to be seemingly nowhere but on closer inspection turns out to be hidden pockets in their coat.

Still, how do you fit an entire spice rack into a coat pocket?

Ey might have said that out loud because now Grantaire is looking up from where they were spreading out their stuff on the table to look at em.

"Don't look at me like that," they laugh, "this is  _ not _ an  _ entire _ spice rack. You're grossly exaggerating. It's just some sage, some myrrh and a little rosemary. Oh, and two four-leaf clovers!" they exclaim, holding said four-leaf clovers up against the light for inspection.

"What's that?" Combeferre asks pointing at two small white plastic bottles.

"This," Grantaire says, giving the first bottle a shake, "is copper. And here we have some salt. Now all we need is – aha!"

They pull two lockets out from another pocket and lay them out on the table, too.

"The soon-to-be amulets."

Grantaire shoves their hand into yet another pocket and –

"Is that a cauldron?" Enjolras asks and ey can feel eir mouth hanging open but ey doesn't even care because, what?!

"Well, it's a bit small to be called a cauldron," Grantaire says, consideringly, rolling the cauldron back and forth between their hands. "Maybe a cauldronette or a cauldronlein or a – you don't care," they cut themself off, shaking their head. "Anyway, moving on."

"What are you doing now?" Combeferre asks, moving closer to curiously glance over Grantaire's shoulder

"We're gonna put in the myrrh and the rosemary first. And then we crush them."

When Courfeyrac leans forward Enjolras steps closer, too, not wanting to miss anything, all four of them now leaning over the small cauldron.

When the myrrh and rosemary are nothing but dust at the bottom of the cauldron Grantaire moves on.

"Now we add the copper and the salt," they pour both into the cauldron, "and we mix it all together."

They look up, then, smiling sharply at Enjolras.

"This is where you come in, darling," Grantaire smirks, handing em the same small knife they'd attacked Enjolras with just a few days before.

Enjolras ignores the way eir skin feels flushed at the nickname and asks, "Blood or hair?"

"Hair," Grantaire says, "Please," they add after a second.

Ey cuts off a curl of eir hair with a sharp motion and hands it to Grantaire.

"And now we burn it," Grantaire says cheerfully, already striking a match Enjolras hadn't seen them pull out and setting eir hair on fire.

The smell reaches Enjolras just a moment later, stinging in eir airways, and ey wrinkles eir nose at the stench of it.

"This smell never gets better, no matter how many times I do it," Grantaire sighs, with a look of disgust.

Combeferre looks quietly intrigued when Enjolras glances over at them and Courfeyrac is following every one of Grantaire's movements, looking like he wants to take notes like they're in college all over again.

Eir hair crumbles into dust in Grantaire's hand, floating down into the cauldron to be added to the mixture.

When it's burned up Grantaire stirs once more before grabbing the sage and another match.

As soon as the sage catches on fire a far more pleasant smell spreads through the room, chasing away the stench of burned hair.

The burned sage gets added to the mixture, too, and yet again Grantaire stirs until the sage is mixed in with all the other ingredients.

"Now I need your blood," they say to Enjolras without looking up from the cauldron.

"How much?" ey asks, the knife heavy in eir hand.

"A few drops will be enough," Grantaire assures em, finally looking up.

That somehow makes em feel a little calmer and ey can stick out eir hand, cutting into eir palm, and watch eir blood drip into the cauldron.

"Thanks, that'll be enough," Grantaire says after a few drops, peering into the cauldron.

"And now we stir. Again. I swear, you guys, 90% of being a witch is just stirring, stirring and more stirring. Someday I'm gonna get a repetitive stress injury, I swear to god."

Enjolras snorts before ey can hold the noise in and Grantaire glances up at em, grinning.

"Oh, not like that, you dirty minded goose," they laugh, "though I am glad to see I can make you laugh. I was starting to think you were immune to my charm."

"What charm?" Enjolras shoots back.

"This charm," Grantaire grins and then they start reciting something in a language Enjolras recognizes but can't understand, still stirring the contents of the cauldron.

When they're done the mixture has turned from a powder into a paste, courtesy of Enjolras' own blood, and Grantaire looks slightly more exhausted than before.

Combeferre moves forward as if to steady them but Grantaire waves them away.

"Don't worry, I'm far from exhausted." By which they probably mean their powers because Grantaire themself sure does look exhausted.

"Are you sure?" Combeferre asks, brows furrowing in a concerned frown.

"Yeah, I am," Grantaire says, flashing them a quick smile. "Don't worry."

They grab one of the lockets, smearing some of the paste inside the pendant.

Enjolras watches curiously as Grantaire lifts one of the clovers with delicate fingers and holds it up before their face.

"And now for good luck," they grin and press the clover into the paste, snapping the locket shut.

They do the same with the other locket and when both are done Grantaire dusts off their hands and sinks down into a chair nearby.

" _ Now _ I’m exhausted," they sigh.

"I'm gonna go wash this out," Courfeyrac offers, speaking for the first time since Grantaire started with the magic, and Grantaire smiles gratefully.

"Oh, thanks. You really don't have to, though..." they trail off, Courfeyrac already moving away towards the kitchen.

"Do you need anything?" Combeferre asks over the sound of running water, pulling a chair up next to where Grantaire is sitting.

"Just a moment to rest, and then I'll be out of your fabulously styled hair" Grantaire says, shaking their head and sliding down further in the chair.

"What language was that you were speaking during the spell?" Enjolras can't help but ask, pulling a third chair over. Combeferre shuffles their chair over so the three of them are sitting in a circle rather than a triangle.

"One of the old arcane languages. Do you know it?" Grantaire looks just as curious now.

"No," Enjolras says, shaking eir head, "but I recognized it. I've heard it before somewhere."

"Probably. Could be you heard it when it was still more commonly used. I mean, it's been dead for quite some time but you're probably older. By the way, how old are you exactly?"

Combeferre laughs softly beside em and it makes Enjolras smile, too.

"Older than you. Probably older than your mama," ey laughs. "Ouch! Hey!" ey calls out turning to scowl at Combeferre, rubbing eir side where Combeferre had poked em with their elbow.

Looking like they're trying to suppress their own laughter Combeferre says, "Don't be rude. Grantaire is our guest."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! next update in a couple days!!


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